A Dangerous Debt to Pay
by Shirley Jean
Summary: John Gage has important business in the bank. Officer James Reed has pressing business at the same bank. Nervous bank robbers Wes and Cleve have entered the same bank with less than noble intentions, and it spells "Trouble in the Bank" for our favorite paramedic and Adam-12 officer. Our version of that episode of Adam-12, and co-written with NoraAnne1929.
1. Chapter 1

The brightness of the day had never caught his attention before. The usual smog that filled the skies of LA was strangely absent, and the rarity of white clouds seemed to float by with carefree abandon, taking on fluffy, airy shapes as they drifted by.

A dark shadow began to block his view. Or was it? Was it a dream? A sensation of floating made itself known to him, along with numbness. There was that dark shadow again, and a face…a familiar face, he thought, which was now prostrated over him. It seemed as though the dark figure was talking to him, but he couldn't understand; couldn't make out anything.

Until…

A shock of pain bolted through his body. Reality jolted John Gage into the stark reality of someone pressing incessantly on his bleeding wound. He gasped for the air that had been stolen from him.

"Come on, John. Stay with me. You're gonna be okay. Sorry buddy. Gotta try to stop the bleeding. John, You with me?" John's eyes fluttered into reality. He tried to focus on the bruised, bleeding face of Officer Jim Reed. No longer above him were the fluffy clouds, blue skies, or fresh air.

They were in the bank.

Just the confines of the bank, illuminated by the horizontal fluorescent lights that did nothing to accentuate the drab, gray dinginess of its interior, now decorated with innocent blood.

E*E*E*E*E

Roy DeSoto leaned against the black and white car with Pete Malloy seated inside, arms folded in front of him. The men were comparing notes and shaking their heads in laughter about how they seemed to find themselves on the receiving end of waiting for their junior partners in the most interesting ways.

"We just rescued a kid who was stuck in a tree. Apparently he thought he was going to 'fly' out - like Superman - but once he was up there he changed his mind. Of course, Johnny handed him down to me without any trouble, but fell in a ditch as he climbed down." A grin spread across Roy's face as he remembered his partner's muddy appearance.

"That guy can end up in the craziest places!"

"Jim tripped over some cans while chasing a 459 suspect down an alley just a little while ago, and ripped a hole in his uniform pants. I told him we should go to the station first, but he wanted to come by the bank. Sometimes we have trouble getting approval for Code 7..."

"Johnny insisted on stopping by now too - despite his muddy condition. He said something about paying off his new television set I think..." Roy rolled his eyes. "I've only heard about it twelve times so far this week."

Malloy's eyes twinkled mischievously. "Twelve times - and it's only Tuesday?"

"At least that many..." Roy said adamantly.

"A disgrace to the Uniform..that's what our junior partners are!" Pete teased good-naturedly. Both men started to laugh.

Pete's radio crackled to life alerting him to a possible 2-11 at a bank, and then listed the address…an address that made both his and Roy's heart stop. It was the address of the bank they were sitting right in front of. Neither man could breathe…or move.

And then…it happened.

A loud pop was Roy's interpretation. But Officer Malloy knew right away what it was. He ordered Roy to take cover, and reached for his radio handset.

"This is 1-Adam-12, Confirming a 2-11 in progress at 4200 Leland Way with shots fired. Request back up and 1-L20 meet me on tack-2."

Roy ran for cover behind the squad, staying low, his mind racing. He knew his best friend and partner was in that bank and was now caught in the midst of a robbery. Roy opened the passenger side of the squad, making sure to remain hidden from the bank, and reached for the handset, contacting his dispatcher.

"LA, this is Squad 51. Please be advised that we have a hostage situation at our location at 4200 Leland Way, possible injuries and ambulances will be needed." Roy's hand shook as he held the Microphone.

"10-4, Fifty-One. " Different tones sounded through the radio, but Roy didn't hear them. He just stared straight ahead at the bank doors. He was worried about his Best friend. He knew that Johnny would try to be a hero. He prayed that he hadn't been on the receiving end of the gunshot.

His gut told him otherwise.

E*E*E*E*E

"Y-You shot him! Cleve! YOU SHOT HIM! What are we gonna do now?" Wes paced nervously back and forth, running his gun-free hand through his unruly hair.

"Shut up and let me think! He made me do it! He shoulda stayed where he was! It's his own fault!" Cleve angrily retorted. Wes held his shotgun nervously on the bleeding hostage.

Jim Reed glanced up from his friend for a second, sensing the tension between the two suspects. He pressed his hand on the bullet wound, but pulled back a little as Johnny groaned.

"Hey, try to stay still...I have to stop the bleeding. Good news is I think it went through. Things could be worse..."

"Y-you don't look so g-good..." John commented, with a worried look at his friend's pale face.

"They just hit me in the back of the head. Can't hurt me that way." Jim tried to laugh at his own joke, but despite his protests, his head really throbbed.

"Get over there and tie him up!" Cleve ordered with a shout. "NOW! While I cover you! We can't let these two pretty boys plot and plan..." Cleve's agitation was growing by the minute.

Jim's muscles tightened, and his jaw clenched. Despite being pistol-whipped by his captors, and the ache he felt with every movement, the young officer was determined to apply pressure to the bleeding wound in his friend's side.

Johnny and Jim exchanged glances. In that moment, they shared a look of trust and friendship.

Wes approached the two men with caution. "You... cop... Move away from him."

"He's bleeding." Jim replied simply. "I'm not moving."

"Move!" Wes repeated with a little more boldness, as he moved a step closer, waving his gun carelessly.

"No." Jim stayed in the kneeling position by his friend, carefully watching the desperate man. He fought to keep his mind clear from the dizziness that was clouding his thoughts.

"I said Move! Over to that pole! NOW!" Wes yelled.

"You'd better go, Jim." Johnny's hand gently replaced Jim's, putting pressure on the bullet wound in his side.

"Listen to him Blue Boy. I'd hate to have two hostages with holes in them." Cleve sneered hatefully at the two men on the floor.

"Okay... okay, I'll go." Jim stood up, but the sudden movement caused him to reel. Wes caught his arm and shoved him towards the pillar. Jim felt himself confined by his own handcuffs. He leaned his head back against the pole, grateful that it was solid and unmoving.

"Jim?!" Johnny's weak voice was full of concern.

Jim didn't open his eyes. "I'm alright John. You okay?"

Cleve's evil laughter interrupted the two men.

"So very touching... neither of you will be okay by the end of this day..."


	2. Chapter 2

Pete leaned with his shoulder against the uncompromising brick of the far wall of the bank. His fingers of his left hand tapped nervously on the department-issued shotgun, while the fingers of his right hand took on a white-knuckled appearance as he gripped it for dear life.

His thoughts hadn't left his best friend and partner inside Old Federal Bank. Jim Reed and John Gage had been taken hostage, and God only knows what was transpiring in the confines of that cold, brick building. Pete knew a shot had been fired. Pete also knew that his partner, donning an officer's uniform, would probably be their primary target now. Beads of sweat slid down from Pete's perfectly groomed strawberry blonde hairline. He closed his eyes and tilted his head to rest it on the unforgiving wall, and drew in a couple shaky, cleansing breaths to collect himself.

"You okay, Pete?" Roy's hand reached for Pete's shoulder, checking on his friend. Pete Malloy startled at the touch.

"Sorry, Pete, didn't mean to scare you. How ya doing?" Roy's sympathetic voice brought a bit of comfort to Pete's startled expression. He hadn't realized that Roy had returned to the scene in his own vehicle, wearing civilian clothing. Captain Stanley graciously called in a replacement for Roy, knowing there would be no way he would be able to focus on his job under these circumstances. The crew of Station 51 would be there themselves if they hadn't been called out on a warehouse fire. They planned to return when they could.

"Seems I should ask you the same question." Pete eyed the senior paramedic carefully, noting the stress on his face. Roy slid his hands gloomily into his pants pockets, and turned his gaze down to the pavement. His foot shuffled a stray scrap of paper for no particular reason. Now it was Pete's turn to be reassuring.

"We'll get them out, Roy, safe and sound. Don't worry. They'll be driving us crazy again in no time flat. "

Pete returned the shoulder pat. Roy nodded his head without looking up, and even managed a slight half smile. Pete wandered over to the temporary command center to discuss the next move with Mac and an officer from the S.W.A.T. team. He wasn't fooling Roy. Pete couldn't hide his worry either. Roy took over Pete's spot against the stark wall, leaning, watching, willing those doors to open. He checked his watch repeatedly.

Each minute that ticked by seemed like an hour.

E*E*E*E*E

Jim caught himself as he felt his head bob downward. He had to stay awake. The throbbing in his head, graying vision and nausea that had now made its' home in his body was making it difficult for him to keep his eyes open. He was tired; so very tired. Jim knew he needed to be aware of his surroundings and his jumpy captors. His concern for Johnny was also increasing.

Jim had managed to use Johnny's own navy blue jacket in a makeshift, very primitive tourniquet around his bleeding wound. He had tied the sleeves in such a way that the knot applied a little pressure where it was needed – somewhat. John's level of consciousness wasn't any better than Jim's, so his ability to apply pressure to the wound himself was minimal, at best. Before he could call out to his friend to check on his condition, John beat him to it.

"Hey Jim, ya gotta s-stay awake. H-hear me? Jim?" John tried to adjust his position to get a better view of his friend, and groaned in the effort.

"I'm alright, John. How are you doing? How's the bleeding?" Jim tried his best to make his eyes focus.

"Mm- okay. Don't worry 'bout me. You jus' m-make sure you stay awake…take some deep b-breaths. How's your head? Talk to me, Jim…" John laid his head back onto the floor. He had expended all of his energy making sure Jim Reed was holding up okay. He adjusted his hold on his makeshift tourniquet, wincing with each painful movement. Cleve was getting more irritated as time ticked by.

"Aww, ain't they sweet!? I told you two to shut up! I've got a good mind to gag both of ya! Now, SHUT UP!"

Cleve's tirade was harshly interrupted by the sound of Mac's voice through a bullhorn from outside the bank.

_"IN THE BANK…YOU'RE SURROUNDED…THERE'S NO WAY OUT…THROW OUT YOUR GUNS AND COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP…REPEAT…THROW OUT YOUR WEAPONS AND YOU WON'T BE HURT…THERE'S NO OTHER WAY OUT!"_ Everyone outside held their breath, and waited.

Wes began to panic.

"We gotta turn ourselves in, Cleve. This has gone too far. That guy's bleedin' still, Cleve. What if he dies? And the cop, here… he don't look so good either. I ain't takin' no murder rap. Come on, Cleve! There's cops all over out there! We ain't got a chance!"

A half-smirk found its way to Jim Reed's pale and beaten face.

"Looks like you boys are bought and paid for." Hearing Jim's comment, Cleve lunged at Jim's throat, making Wes panic all the more.

"Stop it, Cleve, just stop it! PLEASE! Your gonna kill 'im!" Wes pulled on Cleve's arm with all his might, finally getting him to release his hold. Jim slumped hard back against the pole, coughing to regain his breath. Squeezing his eyes shut, He hoped to hold down the waves of nausea creeping up into his throat. He began to swallow convulsively to keep control. Jim's muscular legs had worked hard to keep him upright against the pole that had held him against his will, but after Cleve's angry outburst, he could feel his knees start to give way, and he slid unwillingly to the floor. Cleve and Wes darted over to the window to figure out their next move.

Watching helplessly, Johnny used his free arm to half-crawl, half-drag himself over to Jim, trying to keep his other hand on his aching side. He had to take advantage of their captor's distraction.

"Jim…y-you with me?" Johnny tried his best to check on his friend. Trying to travel those mere five feet had caused his wound to bleed even more. He left blood-streaked smears on the floor in his wake. John's blood stained hand instinctively reached for Jim's pulse, and he tried to count in his clouded mind. It was a miracle that Wes was able to prevent Cleve from tying John up to the desk. He knew he would have bled to death.

Jim cracked one eye open, then another. The 'Merry-go-round' he felt like he was on was finally slowing down, and coming to a stop.

_ "ALRIGHT IN THERE…TIME'S RUNNING OUT. COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP!" _

Mac's voice of authority reminded Cleve and Wes that the countless line of officers outside the bank had no intention going away. The dedicated officers stayed poised with their firearms, waiting and watching. Roy held his vigil at the side of the bank, feeling helpless, wanting to do something, anything. He had to get his best friend out.

"What are we gonna do, Cleve? We don't have a way out! We're trapped!"

Cleve ran his hand down his face as he thought. An evil sneer replaced his look of panic as he looked over at Jim and John.

"On the contrary, Wes my boy! Ole' blue boy here is gonna get us out of here. He's gonna go to the door here, and get us what we want."

Jim shook his head as much as the pain would allow. "No thanks, I'll pass." Jim's response was quiet, but determined.

Cleve approached his hostages with Jim's police issued revolver drawn, and aimed it at Johnny's head and pulled back the hammer, his wild eyes squinting as he took aim at the semi-conscious paramedic.

"Oh, I don't know. I think you'll see it MY way."

Cleve leaned down and pressed the gun against John's forehead.

"Alright! Alright, I'll go!" Jim's tone of voice betrayed him. His concern for his friend made him cave in to Cleve's demands. Cleve un-cocked the gun and put it in his waistband. The look on his face was un-nerving. Cleve grinned in self-satisfaction.

"Bring him over here, Wes. We're going for a very short walk." Wes did as he was told.

Wes started to speak, but decided against it. Jim could feel the man's hands shaking as one handcuff was removed, then the other. He felt tingling and then pain as some of the feeling began to return to his hands. Cleve grabbed his arm and yanked him upward to his feet, and pushed him towards the door. Jim glanced back at his friend on the floor.

"Look, blue boy... don't try anything, see? You and me - we're going out together and coming right back in." He studied the officer's face carefully. "You got that?"

Jim stared back at Cleve. "They won't make a deal," he said confidently.

"You'd better hope they do."

E*E*E*E*E

Every muscle in Pete's body grew tense as he watched the door of the bank suddenly open, and his partner being used as a human shield.

Officer Jim Reed did his level best to stand tall, wearing the uniform he was honored to wear, and representing a profession in which he took so much pride. He was yanked roughly forward by the suspect, which Jim quickly tried to recover from. He didn't want them to see him stumble, no matter how bad he felt.

Pete, always the professional, was himself taken aback by his best friend's horrendous appearance. He could see that he was hurting. He also noticed the police-issued revolver held tightly against Jim's ribs.

"HEY COPS! DO YOU SEE YOUR PIG FRIEND? YOU HAVE TEN MINUTES TO GET US A CAR OR HE BUYS IT! TEN MINUTES! YOU GOT THAT?" Cleve gripped Jim's arm a little tighter. "Now, back up Blue Boy... real...slow." Cleve growled in Jim's ear, and began to drag Jim backwards, causing Jim to once again stumble. Cleve tossed Jim to the floor inside the bank, pointing Jim's own gun at him to hold him until Wes could re-cuff him. Jim glanced at John, who hadn't moved since their appearance outside, which concerned him.

"That should do it, Copper." Cleve announced as they withdrew into the bank. "Your friends will make a deal. You'll see. I give them 45 seconds...a minute tops!"

As if in answer to his prediction, a voice projected through a bullhorn reached them…

E*E*E*E*E

When the two men disappeared, Pete turned to his Sergeant. "We have to get him out of there, Mac."

Both men were surprised to hear the voice of a young probationer that had wandered over to the front patrol car and interrupted their discussion.

"Gee, Malloy. Reed looks like Death. Sorry about your partner. He seemed like a swell guy..." Mac barely had time to react as Pete's quick reflexes found their way to the collar of the young probie.

"Don't you EVER use the past tense in reference to my partner. Got that, Junior?" Pete snapped through clenched teeth angrily, his blue eyes flashing. "We're not going to leave him in there, no matter WHAT you've read in your newly acquired manual!" The young man's eyes, now wide as saucers, raised his hands in a non-verbal surrender. Realizing his actions, Pete released his grip, but not his eye contact.

"Calm down, Pete." Mac placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Johnson - go back over there with Wells. Stay where you're posted."

"But Sarge, I was just trying..." Johnson stammered.

"NOW, Johnson…" Mac watched the retreating form, then glanced at Malloy, and sighed. He knew his best officer and friend was hurting. He thought about reprimanding him, but decided it could wait.

"We'll get him out Pete. Jim will handle this like a pro. He'll be okay."

"He looks awful, Mac." Pete said meekly. Mac patted his shoulder.

No one had noticed that Roy DeSoto had been standing behind the officers, and had been taking it all in. His voice being overcome with emotion, was not much more than a whisper.

"Johnny – I didn't see Johnny. You don't think he's…" Pete turned and looked into Roy's sad eyes.

"I'm sure he's still alive Roy. We'll get them out. I'm sure they would have mentioned if they had killed John when they made their demands." Mac said matter-of-factly. Roy's eyes widened at Mac's abrupt statement.

Pete flashed a glance at his superior, wishing he had worded things a bit differently for Roy's benefit, but Pete knew that Mac was a very fact-oriented guy. Mac wandered off to retrieve the Bullhorn.

"We have to do something, Pete. I just can't stand here anymore. John could be dying in there. Jim is in serious need of Medical attention, too. We have to get them out of there. Too much time has gone by. There has to be another way. I've been thinking, and I have an idea. You and me, we could do this. We could get them out of there." Roy looked around carefully to make sure no one was within hearing distance. Pete looked over his shoulder as well. Both men had had enough of being manipulated and waiting helplessly to help their partners.

Slowly, Pete and Roy began to formulate their flawless and genius plan…


	3. Chapter 3

Pete listened intently as Roy spoke. His head argued with each point of the well thought out plan, citing procedure and rule, knowing that Mac would never go for it, yet his heart was all for it, knowing it was something that he and Roy could pull off, or rather, HAD to pull off to get their friends out of there. His head was already spinning at having seen the sight of his partner, and what those animals had done to him. He was afraid to imagine any further at what John's condition might be– for Roy's sake.

_"YOU IN THE BANK! WE WANT TO SPEAK WITH YOU. WE ARE GOING TO CALL YOU ON THE PHONE. WE WANT TO TALK WITH YOU. IF YOU'RE SMART, YOU'LL TALK TO US." _

Mac held his Bullhorn with authority, and slowly rose from his protected position. He made his way over to Pete and Roy.

E*E*E*E*E

"WOO-HOO! Hear that Wes my boy? We got'em right where we want 'em! Told ya they would do what we wanted! See there, blue boy?" Jim leaned his head back and closed his eyes. His excursion outside had exhausted him. Cleve kicked Jim's leg to drive his point home. Johnny stirred as his awareness began to increase.

E*E*E*E*E

"Why don't you come with me, Pete, maybe you'll be able to pick something up from Reed. You too, Roy. Maybe they'll let you talk to John, too." Both men dutifully followed Mac to a doctor's office next to the bank to make their phone call. The office had a speaker so that all three men could hear.

"Okay, Pete, see what you can do. " The man in the office handed a slip of paper to Pete that had the bank's number on it. Pete's hand trembled as he dialed. Before the first ring completed, a nervous Cleve answered in the bank.

"I knew you'd start to see it my way. Ready to bargain, coppers?" Cleve felt his confidence growing. Pete's jaw grew firm with determination.

"Why don't you tell me what's on your mind. If you're thinking the officer is a good bargaining chip, you're wrong." Pete stated.

"Last I checked, he's wearin' the same blue suit as you, cop. I have no problem seein' it covered in blood. You're forgetting one thing. There's someone else in here, and his blue shirt is already smeared pretty good with a nice shade of red, so somethin' tells me you should be willing to make a deal. And by the looks of your cop friend here, I wouldn't wait too long to make up your minds." Pete closed his eyes, both in anger and sadness. He had less than a second to get control.

Roy's face lost color, and he felt as if someone had punched him in the stomach upon hearing Cleve's words. He had suspected that Johnny was hurt, but now it had been confirmed. It felt like all the oxygen had been sucked out of that small office. He couldn't breathe. Pete looked up from the speaker and locked eyes with Roy. If he had ever doubted Roy's plan before, he didn't now. They were going to get them out.

"The officer is prepared for what happens, even to die if necessary." Pete wanted to throw up after saying those words.

"Ya, ya…we already heard that song. It was so touching. From both of them. Almost brought a tear to my eye." Cleve's voice was dripping with sarcasm.

"We have plenty of officers, firepower, and time. You are completely surrounded with nowhere to go. You're nailed. " Pete rubbed his knotted and stressed neck; Roy pinched the bridge of his nose, and began to pace.

"What you're saying may be true; but blue boy here isn't the only thing I have to bargain with. His buddy here isn't lookin' to good, ya know? And my guess is, unless you guys do what we want, and soon, he ain't gonna be around much longer, and that'll be on your heads, not mine!"

Mac folded his arms against his chest, almost in defiance of what was being said, and being threatened by the likes of these men. Pete turned and looked at Roy, trying not to give into the helpless feeling that threatened to take over his soul. He thought for a few moments, and then turned back to the speaker, knowing of the connection he had with his best friend, hoping to be able to make it, and soon.

"Let me speak with the officer…" Pete said, hopefully. He thought maybe Jim could give him something, anything; a clue that would help them.

"Oh, you wanna say goodbye? Sure, why not!" Cleve dragged the phone over to Jim, and put the receiver forcefully to his ear.

"T-this is Reed..." Jim managed to say in a strained voice. Pete's heart fell, but he retrieved his professional persona.

"Jim…How are you – You allright?" Pete knew it was a dumb question, especially after seeing him outside the bank. He asked it anyway.

"Mm-allright." Jim lied. "John's down – shot. " Roy stepped up to the speaker, and Pete nodded his approval to go ahead with his inquiry.

"Jim, it's Roy. How bad is it? Is he conscious? What about you?" Pete and Roy waited.

"Not good. He's hit in the side. He's in and out of it. Still bleeding. Mm-okay. Honest."

Another lie. Jim knew he had to let Pete know what he was dealing with. He was hoping he could convey it somehow…

"Pete, don't take any chances with this 'pair'. Okay, 'boomer'?" Cleve yanked the phone away from Jim's ear.

"This is all really touching. Now you know how serious this is. And you also know that I wanted a car seven minutes ago. Times a-wastin' cop. If I don't get what I want, the pig here gets it first. That is, if fire boy doesn't die first. Got it, cop?"

A loud click ended the call, and left three men standing in the office, staring at the buzzing sound coming from the speaker box. Mac looked at Pete's expressionless face.

"Well, he said 'pair,' so that means there's only two suspects, and he called me 'boomer,' so that means one of them has a shotgun. Mac, we gotta move on that car, we GOTTA get them out of there!"

Pete's professional façade was beginning to crack. Mac gave him a what felt like a patronizing pat, a half smile, and went back outside to his command post. Those gestures told both Pete and Roy that not much more was going to be done to get their partners out. Protocol was to wait them out; use tear gas, then storm the building. Pete knew that. His head understood that. He knew Mac had a job to do… but would Jim and John survive this 'protocol?' Would they get caught in the crossfire?

With their severe injuries and in their weakened states…not likely. They had to act fast.

E*E*E*E*E

"Nothin's happenin' Cleve! What do we do now?" Wes darted from window to window. John and Jim exchanged glances, knowing that their captors were becoming more and more unstable. Cleve was getting impatient with their situation.

"I think I have a way to get'em to listen. Bring that one over to me. He and I are goin' outside to refresh their memories." Cleve nodded his head in Johnny's direction. Jim bristled at what they were about to do.

"No, don't…take me instead. Didn't you say I could get you what you want?" Jim tried to persuade the unstable men. Cleve raised the butt of his gun and took a hurried step in Jim's direction. Jim braced himself for the blow that was about to come.

" NO, STOP! S-s-okay, Jim…I'll go." Wes yanked John up onto his unsteady feet, causing him to teeter. Knowing that Jim was attached securely to the pole, Cleve grabbed John roughly from the other side, and dragged him to the door of the bank, causing him to stumble over his own feet. He tossed his head in the direction of the restrained officer Reed.

"Make sure that one stays put. "I'm gonna show 'em we mean business!" Cleve jerked John roughly by his arm.

"Let's really give 'em a show!" Cleve said, as he grabbed hold of John's tourniquet/ jacket, yanking it roughly from John's waist, and throwing it to the floor. His blood stained shirt would serve the purpose he wanted to all the spectators outside the bank.

If this didn't get them some action, nothing would. He kicked open the door, and dug the revolver into Johnny's side.

E*E*E*E*E

Hearing the commotion, Pete and Roy stepped out of the adjacent office, and saw the horrific sight. Roy began to take hurried steps toward Johnny, but Pete grabbed Roy's arm and pulled him back. John's ashen face and bloodied shirt worried Roy. John's level of consciousness was minimal; his blood loss critical.

"Ya see this cops? Time's a wastin'! Your fire buddy here ain't long for this world, so if you wanna keep him alive, you better get us that car. Five minutes left. FIVE MINUTES! Bring it out front, and Clear out! And ya better not follow us! You got that?!"

Cleve began to back up, and John dropped heavily to the sidewalk. Grabbing his arm, Cleve aimed his gun at the crowd, and dragged him angrily backward, disappearing into the bank.

E*E*E*E*E

Jim winced as he watched Cleve disappear out the front door with John, leaving the bloody tourniquet behind on the floor. He looked over at Wes, noticing the beads of sweat on the nervous man's forehead. This might be his only chance to get between the two suspects. He took a deep breath and decided to take the gamble.

"Your partner has you in pretty deep this time."

"_What_? What was that?" Wes tore his eyes from the window and wiped his face with his sleeve.

"There's no way you can win this game." Jim kept his voice low, giving the conversation a feeling of secrecy.

"The officers outside can't make deals. I don't matter, and that paramedic doesn't matter. They have to follow regulations regardless of the consequences." Jim tried to swallow past the lump in his throat. Time was running out.

"I-I never wanted this, you know?" Wes looked furtively to the door as he spoke, then back to Reed. The sound of Cleve's angry voice came through the wall in muffled tones.

"I-I don't want to die. I just want out." Wes nervously cowered and looked back at the doors, as if Cleve heard their conversation. Jim saw his chance.

"Look... if you take these handcuffs off..."

"I couldn't! You don't understand – He'll kill me!" Wes interrupts in panic.

"Just hear me out..." Jim motioned towards the door with a bend of his head.

"Un-cuff me, and we can take Cleve when he comes back. I'll kick him when he's near me…I'll get the gun away and we'll all walk out of here safe. It's not too late. What do you say?"

"I don't know man..." Wes resumed his nervous watch on the doors as he continued to hear Cleve's angry ranting carry through the street.

"You don't have much time to decide." Jim prodded insistently, trying to get himself in a standing position. "You can get out of this now, or face robbery, kidnapping, and possibly murder charges later."

Wes looked back and forth between Jim and the bank's doors, and re-wiped the visible sweat that refused to go away as he considered his future.

"If I do what you say…y-you'll tell 'em I helped you?" Wes was weakening. Jim was getting to him.

"I can't promise you much, but I'll do what I can…" Jim whispered. Wes took a few steps in Jim's direction, when a kick to open the bank door made both men jump. An irate Cleve half-dragged Johnny backwards into the bank in disgust.

"Stupid injun…you coulda cost me out there. Couldn't even stand up. I'm gonna enjoy ending your miserable life."

Cleve landed a well-placed foot into the side of the injured paramedic. John cried out in pain, and rolled to his side, and tried to stifle the painful coughs. Jim tugged on his restraints, wishing he could get to his friend, and overtake their captor. He drew a deep breath to keep control of his emotions. He had to carry out the plan.

As Cleve made his way past him, Jim quickly and precisely in one swift movement, raised his leg, and drawing on what strength he could, kicked Cleve with his shin in the gut, making Cleve drop on the floor with a thud, the gun he was holding skitter across the floor.

"GET THE GUN! GET IT! QUICK, GET THE GUN!" Jim shouted with all his might to his other captor, waiting for him to carry out their plan.

Wes froze, unable to end the nightmare for Jim and Johnny.

Cleve quickly got to his feet and recovered the gun, His face displaying more rage than Jim thought possible. Flipping the gun around, Cleve brought the handle down on the side of Jim Reed's already bruised forehead. His vision began to cloud, then speckle with gray. Jim vaguely heard John calling his name as his world spun out of control, and he succumbed to the smothering darkness.

Then, Jim Reed knew nothing.


	4. Chapter 4

"Pete, you know I can't allow it. Reed is already at risk, I can't risk you as well. And DeSoto, well, don't get me started on DeSoto. " Mac set his glare and jaw firm.

Pete huffed in frustration at his superior. Mac wasn't going for the idea of using the cab that was sitting idle on the same block, with the sleeping driver inside who was oblivious to what was happening throughout this whole ordeal. Pete was sure that the captors had seen it sitting a half block down, and wouldn't question it's usage as much as they would a strange, unmarked vehicle. Now he had to get Mac on board with him as to his choice of drivers.

"Look, Mac. This makes perfect sense. Roy is medically trained. He can drive in stressful situations. These guys have been out here twice, they've probably made all the cops out here. They 'll just think Roy is the cab driver. This can work! I'll be in the trunk with the handy talkie giving our position. I'll talk quiet, you click twice for confirmation. This is our only chance." Mac looked at Pete's pleading eyes, and back to the bank, which had become unusually quiet. They were down to the wire now.

Being out of options and time, Mac gave a reluctant nod.

E*E*E*E*E

Awareness came back slowly to Jim. Johnny's pleading seemed to help, although it didn't help the relentless pounding that was now making its' home in his head. Exhaustion threatened to keep John from helping his friend, but he persisted.

"C-com'on, Jim. Open your eyes. Y-you can do it. C-com'on. T-that's it." Johnny did his best to try to coax him back. John tried to hide his pain as he reached up to apply pressure to Jim's head. Jim reached up slowly, replacing John's hand with his own. Gradually the events returned to his memory, and he slammed his eyes closed again, trying to stop the room from swirling in front of him.

"Jim…y-you all right?" Jim gave a slight nod, and eased his way back into a semi-sitting position. John kept his eyes on his friend, and Jim slowly opened one eye, then another. Once the two figures he was seeing of John Gage slid into the form of one, Jim tried to speak.

"I'm fine, John. R-really. You –n-need to n-not move around s-so much. " Jim tried to force a smile. John wasn't convinced, and studied Jim's sluggish eyes. "We're q-quite a pair, huh, John?"

John gave a gentle smile and a reassuring nod. Both men knew that they trusted the other, and their eyes reflected it. Their words said it, almost as much as the ones they didn't have to say.

Pete was counting on the jumpiness and mistrust of their perp's. As the unmarked vehicle pulled in front of the bank, an officer exited the vehicle. A reflection of a man holding a rifle was seen peering out of the bank. It disappeared as quickly as it appeared. Pete's plan was for them to see the pristine vehicle, the officer, and decide that it was rigged; a set-up, and decide on another vehicle, perhaps one already available on the street. They had had the street pretty much cleared; with one exception. Pete and Roy would be ready for them with the only other logical vehicle at the ready. An 'un-assuming' yellow cab parked just down the street.

Pete's gamble paid off.

E*E*E*E*E

Watching from the window, Cleve eyed the officer as he exited the shiny vehicle and made his way to his commanding officer. Mac nodded, and the officer took cover behind the black and white station wagon. Pete's counting on the perpetrators being suspicious was a sure bet.

"How stupid do they think I am? They just pulled up a car…they probably did somethin' to it…those fools! I'm not fallin' for that ole' trick! Bring blue boy over here! I'm gonna throw 'em off and grab a car off the street! Make sure you're ready to move with the injun fireman when I say so. Got that?" Cleve barked. Wes dutifully pulled Jim over to Cleve – again. Jim tried to struggle, but his strength was waning. Wes began dragging Johnny toward the door.

Dragging Jim through the front doors, and once again using him as a shield for his own self -preservation, Cleve shouted angry curse words at the waiting officers before speaking logically.

"You guys must want to see pretty boy's insides spilled all over this here sidewalk! I'm not fallin' for the rigged get-away car bit! No sireee!" Cleve jerked Jim violently around as he looked up and down the block. Spying his intended target, he pointed his gun in the direction of the yellow cab sitting idle part way down the street, and then quickly jabbed it painfully back into Officer Reed's ribs, making Jim flinch.

"There! That Cab! I want that! Bring it to me now, DO IT NOW!" Cleve shouted his demand at the waiting officers. Mac nodded at the young officer next to him, and the young man slid carefully from behind the car that protected him, and jogged down to the cab, and tapped on the drivers' window.

Roy startled slightly at the sound. He nervously fumbled with the key in the ignition, and turned it slowly. The engine protested a few times before roaring to life as commanded.

Pete and Roy's plan was coming to fruition.

E*E*E*E*E

Pete had already placed a small first aid kit and a handy talkie in the trunk of the cab. He strategically placed the LAPD issued shotgun in an easily accessible place before crawling into the trunk himself. Using his cuffs, he carefully locked one end on the trunk mechanism, and pulled it down to the folded handkerchief lying over the base so that it would look like it was closed, but didn't lock. Roy DeSoto was already in place in the drivers' seat and had pulled the baseball cap down over his eyes, trying to look like he had been there the whole time, sleeping through it all. Pete radioed Mac to let him know he was in position. He received two clicks as his answer.

Officer Pete Malloy lay flush in the trunk bed in the darkness of the cab, alone with his thoughts.

It had all come down to this. His heart was beating so hard and fast that he was sure that the occupants of the cab were going to be able to hear it. He knew he had to keep a cool head; his best friends' life depended on it. He could no longer worry about every detail of their plan. He could no longer worry about the '_what if's,_' or the '_maybe's._' Now was the time. His best friend and partner was in this car, depending on him to get him out. So was his paramedic friend, John Gage. Now he also felt responsible for endangering his other friend, Roy. True, Roy helped develop this plan, and insisted on being a part of the rescue, but Pete felt the full weight of all the lives involved, and the responsibility for whether or not this plan worked, enabling him to finally free Jim and Johnny from the terror they had been experiencing for the past several hours.

Beads of sweat began to sting his azure eyes, which were fixed with determination on the narrow slit he had allowed himself for viewing to determine their location. The heat of the day had been magnified by the steel confines of the trunk, robbing him of the air he needed so desperately to calm his nerves.

Pete felt the vibration of the engine starting, and then, the forward lurch of the cab pulling toward the bank.

It was time.

E*E*E*E*E

Wes glanced over at the cab driver, who seemed to have his eyes glued on the road. Here was another innocent bystander that would probably end up dead because of him.

The cars that passed seemed to disappear into blurred lines and buildings along the street that he had seen a hundred times vanished into the background. Their whole plan had seemed so simple... just a quick robbery with all kinds of ready money. The way Cleve had explained it, the idea was fail-safe. He should have known better. His luck was running true to form. Even if they got away, the future didn't look too good. A life on the run, hiding from the cops...

For a brief moment, he wondered if he would make it out of this alive. Cleve was ruthless and desperate. He wouldn't think twice about killing his partner along with the other hostages. Wes tightened his grip on the gun he held directed towards the driver and realized that his hands were shaking. Suddenly Cleve's voice abruptly broke into his thoughts.

"Wes! Quit yer daydreamin! We're almost home free! Keep that gun on the driver like I told ya to. Got that?" Wes nervously acknowledged his orders, and shoved his glasses back up his nose, back into their place.

Jim leaned backed and closed his eyes, hoping to drown out the redundant threats being made by his captors. He let his mind wander to a happier time…

_He was so thankful that he had taken the time before his shift that day to pull his wife into his arms to tell her he loved her. He was so glad he made time to wander into the back yard, and step into the sandbox with little Jimmy and play with him, even though he got sand in his shoes. He never would have seen the twinkle in Jimmy's eyes, the smile on his cherub-like face as they played with his little cars, or heard the squeal of delight as the toddler threw his chubby little arms around his neck, and received the sticky, peanut butter-and-jelly kisses on his neck if he hadn't. He wouldn't have gotten his shirt scattered with dirty fingerprints, or he wouldn't have heard the words,"I wuwoo, da-dee!" spoken with un-hindered, sweet tenderness that only a precious two year old can offer…if he hadn't taken the time. _

_Then, it hit him. It struck him like a lightning bolt – piercing his heart and traveling to the bottom of his feet; and felt like a pain he had never known before. The image of the black and white station wagon pulling to the front of his house, and a solemn Sergeant MacDonald walking slowly to his front door, with Pete at his side- his partner's eyes reddened and tear-stained… Jean answering the door with her beautiful smile, only to have it disappear at the sight of his best friend and his commanding officer, knowing it could only mean one thing, one horrible, nightmarish thing… _

His entire body shuddered thinking of what his wife would go through. He couldn't let himself go there. He knew his partner had to be working tirelessly to get them out of this. He had to have faith, he had to believe. No, he did believe. In his best friend, his brother.

"What's the matter, blue boy, ya scared?" Cleve's mocking tone grated on Jim's aching nerves. Slowly, lifting his head, Jim locked eyes with the crazed man in defiance.

"Hardly. But _you_ should be. You are sadly mistaken if you think you're getting out of this alive." Jim's eyes stayed fixed, giving him some satisfaction at being able to stare down his assailant. Cleve broke the gaze by peering out the back window nervously, then repeatedly checking the other windows. Little did he know that their location was being revealed by someone only a few feet away, separated only by the backseat he was sitting on, and the wall of the trunk.

John shifted painfully in his semi-conscious state. Jim placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to settle his friend.

"Easy, John. Try not to move around. It's okay." Jim's voice seemed to settle Johnny down a bit. Cleve knocked Jim's hand away. Roy glanced in the rear view mirror, trying not to react in any way to what he was seeing. Not an easy task, given what he saw.

Johnny was pale, sweaty, his level of consciousness was almost non-existent, and his blood loss was at a critical point. He prayed that he would survive this. It took all he had not to drive the cab straight to Rampart. He knew he had to stick to the plan; to drive the cab. He did as he was told when Cleve barked out orders of where to turn and when. Roy could also see out of the corner of his eye that Wes was coming unglued. Roy just stared straight ahead, only glancing at his mirrors occasionally, trying not to raise suspicion.

Roy made another turn into what seemed to be a barren field, scattered with overgrown weeds and a vastness that he hoped wouldn't become their final resting place. Sitting there, looking definitely out of place, was a lone vehicle, obviously planted there hours earlier as a secondary get-away car.

Feeling the car slow, then stop, heightened Pete's awareness. Alerting Mac to the situation, Pete made himself ready for what was to happen next. Pete's mouth became suddenly as dry as the piece of land where they had stopped the car. He quickly ran through his mental checklist…again. Mac was alerted to their location, Rifle was loaded and cocked and in his shooting hand. Medical kit was behind his head and ready for Roy to use on his best friend and partner, and hopefully, they weren't too late for his other friend, John Gage.

He drew a low, silent, yet steady breath to prepare himself. He was alone in this, at this moment. He had one chance, and only one to overtake them. One mistake; one slip, and it would be over, for all of them. Anger, fear, and anxiety each struck him like punches to the stomach at the thought of what was at stake.

E*E*E*E*E

"Get out cop - now." Cleve said through gritted teeth. He shoved the barrel of the gun into Jim's ribs, as if to back up his command. "Wes, you take care of that driver."

"Um, Cleve... why don't we just cut out?" Wes managed to stammer. "We can tie these two up and leave them in the car here..."

"SHUT UP! Do like I tell ya and get out of the car, or you won't leave here alive either." His cold tone left no question as to his ability to carry out his threat.

Wes didn't say another word. He turned to Roy and motioned for him to get out of the car. Roy nonchalantly stole a quick glance back at his partner, wondering if he'd get the chance to help him. A momentary glance and a chance to be able to lock eyes with his best friend said more than any words could. The quick, unseen nod of affection shared between the brothers spoke volumes, and was exchanged before Wes nudged Roy on his way. Roy and Wes started walking over to where the other two men were standing.

Almost as if in protest of what was about to happen, John groaned weakly from the backseat. Cleve shot a look into the car, as if to ensure that the paramedic was still barely conscious. "We'll take care of him in a minute," he told Wes as he turned back to Reed.

"You ready to die now, copper?" Cleve taunted with an evil grin.

"Blue boy was so confident a minute ago, wasn't he Wes? Well guess what... your pig friends are nowhere in sight and you're going to spill all your guts right here in the dirt..." Cleve threw his head back and laughed a deep, satisfying belly laugh.

Jim scanned the area quickly. He knew that Pete _had_ to be close by, but his eyes told him that they were alone. "_Pete? You'd better do something soon, partner_." His thoughts were interrupted when Cleve kicked Roy's legs out from under him and forced him into a kneeling position. Roy's chest started heaving with nervous breathing in anticipation of what was about to come. He bowed his head, almost in a look of reflection and resignation.

Suddenly, the unmistakable voice of his partner - a voice that he had been wanting to hear - shouted,

"JIM!"

Instinctively, Jim leaped towards Roy, tackling and covering him with his own body, in an effort to keep him out of harm's way.

Multiple shots rang out in all directions. Birds scattered from their once quiet perches in the sparse trees, squawking in protest at the mayhem unfolding.

The smell of gunfire and smoke hung heavily in the air.

Four bodies lay prostrate on the ground.


	5. Chapter 5

If there were a time that silence could be deafening, this was it.

Pete rose cautiously from his position of kneeling on one knee, having been able to discharge two rounds simultaneously into the suspects. He had felt the rounds Cleve have fired; three as he could recall, two sailed with careless abandon past his head. One had shattered the taillight of the cab, scattering the crimson shards just inches from his feet. He approached with his gun aimed and ready, even though both suspects were on the ground, not moving. Pete used his foot to kick the handgun away that Cleve had held in his hand fearlessly at one time. Now it lay on the ground, abandoned. He reached down and picked up the other revolver belonging to his partner, and tucked it carefully in his pocket. He stood there for a moment, observing, drawing in a deep breath, reassuring himself that neither man was a threat. It was obvious that neither of them was going anywhere anytime soon.

It was over.

He made his way to his downed partner, making that his primary concern now. Jim stirred on the ground, looking up into the face of his best friend, not really trusting the mirage before him. Pete re-assured him.

"Easy, partner. " Pete was concerned for his friend, and was trying to keep his friend still and quiet.

"Stay with me, Jim." Jim stirred again, fighting hard to find his friend's voice through the grayness and the buzzing in his head that threatened to drown out what was around him.

"Easy, Jim. It's over. Lay still." Pete placed a hand of friendship on Jim's shoulder, letting it linger there.

"P-Pete… is it r-really y-you?" Jim squinted into the face of his partner, not really sure if he was truly seeing him. He tried to sit up, only to be greeted with pain, and his best friend's hands on his shoulders holding him in place. He was very willing to comply, and let his head drop back onto the dry, dusty ground.

"It's me, buddy. Take it easy, now. You okay?" Pete was concerned for his friend, and was trying to keep him from moving. He used his hand to shield Jim and block the sun from his eyes.

"John…h-he's…" Jim became restless once more.

"Roy's with him, help's on the way. Jim squeezed his eyes shut, and willed his stomach back into place. Once his eyes closed, the darkness began to lure him into the state of unconsciousness that he had been fighting. Jim no longer had the strength. Pete saw his friend's body go slack, trying to give in to the comforting darkness.

"Stay with me, Jim. Don't you dare give up now! JIM!" Pete eased himself into a protective hover over his best friend.

E*E*E*E*E

Roy dutifully walked over to the unmoving form closest to the get- away car. He reached gingerly downward toward the neck of the obviously deceased man. He made his way to the next prone man, finding the same results. He made eye contact with Pete Malloy, and shook his head, letting him know that the ordeal was truly over for their friends. He went quickly to the trunk of the cab and retrieved the first aid kit, and opened it as he made his way to the downed officer.

Retrieving the proper items, he quickly knelt by Jim Reed, and applied the pressure bandage to his head, putting Pete's hand in place of his own, and giving him some instructions to keep Jim awake and talking. Roy then hurried to help his best friend, who seemed to be quickly fading in the back of the cab.

E*E*E*E*E

Roy couldn't get to the cab fast enough. As he climbed into the back seat, his knee slid on the vinyl in the fresh blood that had pooled there. Gasping at the sight of his best friend, John's pallor looked more ashen than it did from glimpses Roy had managed to steal from the rear view mirror while driving the cab.

His hand instinctively reached for his partner's neck, holding his own breath as he waited for the sign of life.

It was there. Faint, but there. Roy placed his hand on John's chest, waiting for the shallow breathing. Roy released a sigh of relief as he continued to evaluate his partner. He loosened the make-shift tourniquet and began to palpate the serious wound, when a low, painful groan escaped from the dark haired man.

"Hey, Junior. Are you with me? Can you talk to me?"

John started to move sluggishly beneath Roy's ministrations with his limited first aid supplies. The fog that held John captive refused to release his mind.

"Mnnnmm…R-rr-ooy?…n-noooo…g-gotta get –a-away…you hafta…hide…g-get d-down…n-noo…g-get out…Jo..k-kids…y-you gotta g-get outta h-here…" Johnny began to use what little strength he had to push at Roy. His mind told him that his captors were still there. He had to protect Roy.

"Johnny…Easy. It's okay. JOHN! It's over, it's all over. You have to settle down, partner. I'm fine. Jim's okay. Help's on the way. Com'on, now." Roy held his hands on John's shoulders, trying to restrain him so he wouldn't injure himself further. A glimmer of awareness flickered as John wrinkled his forehead, and began to relax his struggle.

"J-Jim…Where…?" John asked as Roy continued to settle his partner down.

"Pete's with him. John, you need to calm down. " Roy applied some pressure to John's wound, causing John to suck in a painful breath and closed his eyes.

"Sorry…you've lost a lot of blood, Junior. Gotta get the bleeding stopped. Junior? Come on…stay with me now. JOHN! HEY! You've come too far to quit now! JOHNNY!" Roy kept beckoning to his partner.

A panicked Roy reached for Johnny's pulse. He continued to plead with him to respond.

"Do ya h-hafta yell, p-pally?" The whispery response took Roy by surprise. If he didn't know better Roy could have sworn he saw a hint of the famous crooked grin for a moment on Johnny's face.

Roy looked at Johnny with relief. A smile crossed his lips as he rolled eyes. A small tear slid from the corner of Roy's eye. He glanced upward, and released the heavy sigh he had been holding most of the afternoon.

It was going to be okay.

He had his partner back.

E*E*E*E*E

The welcome sound of sirens was beginning to increase in volume and number. Pete continued to encourage his partner to talk to him; to stay awake. He squeezed his hand, his arm; anything to coax him away from the oblivion that threatened to steal his best friend's consciousness.

"They're coming, Jim. Hang on, buddy. Stay with me…" A nervous Officer Malloy kept checking over his shoulder for the help he promised his best friend. He glanced over to the cab, and knew that Roy was probably doing the same for his own partner.

After what seemed like an eternity, the caravan of squad cars, ambulances and an engine with a squad kicked up a flurry of dust and activity as they screeched to a halt and hustled to the side of their comrades. It took some convincing to get Roy and Pete away from their partners, but they finally agreed.

Pete slowly backed away, his adrenalin starting to crash, leaving his body shaking, draining him of energy. Slowly, he slid to the ground, the vacant get-away car as his guide. He let his eyes close so that he could gather himself for the next part of their journey. He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"How you holding up, Pete?" Mac's authoritative voice broke Pete's solitude.

"I'm all right, Mac. Just glad it's over. Hoping Jim's okay…John too. They're in rough shape." Pete started to get up, but Mac's hand held him in place.

"Go ahead and take a minute. You've earned it. You and DeSoto should ride with them to the hospital, we'll clean things up here." Pete looked up into the face of his superior, thankful for the few minutes of reprieve. He let his head lean back and he closed his eyes.

It didn't take long before Pete sensed that he wasn't alone. He heard someone slide down to the ground alongside him with a defeated sigh. Pete looked over and smiled at his tired 'accomplice.'

"Hey, Roy. How ya doing?" Roy nodded his head toward the direction of where his best friend was laying, being worked on by his friends, then leaned it back on the car as he pondered the question.

"I guess I was getting in the way. How about you?" Pete nodded too, as he watched another paramedic treat his partner. A few silent moments passed between them as they took in the scene before them. Pete decided to approach the topic first.

"John going to be all right?" Roy sighed deeply. It had been close. Really close. Another five minutes would have been the point of no return. He felt the lump in his throat return and swallowed hard to force it back down. He tried hard to gather himself before he spoke.

"Ah, ya. He, ah, he's going to pull through. We got to him, ah, them, in time. Jim too."

Now it was Pete's turn to fight with his emotions.

"Give it to me straight, Roy. How are they...Really?" Pete studied Roy's face. His years in police work would tell him if Roy was skirting around the truth.

Roy cleared his throat. He didn't want to lie, but he wanted to make sure that Pete was ready for the truth. It wasn't pretty.

"Well, ah, Pete…Jim…he was ah, worked over pretty good, but I think you know that. He took a blow to the back of the head, and he has injuries that are consistent to being ah, well… hit on the side of the head a few times." Roy looked at Pete before continuing.

"They pistol whipped him…" Pete finished Roy's unspoken words for him. He swallowed convulsively, trying not to throw up at the thought of what his best friend went through. Roy finished his assessment.

" Looks like he took a few blows to the ribcage as well. They've got the bleeding of his head wound stopped, and they are going to run tests at the hospital to make sure there isn't any internal bleeding. They will do X-Rays to make sure there isn't any other injuries or damage." Pete got control after hearing everything, and asked his next question.

"And Johnny? How's he?" That question smacked Roy between the eyes, and in the gut. He had a little more difficulty keeping his voice controlled answering this question.

"The bullet went right through his side, but…it looks like it nicked some blood vessels and who knows what else. I heard Mac say a witness told him they roughed him up a bit too. They'll check everything out at the hospital." Roy got quiet and stared at the ground. Pete noticed how sullen he became.

"But, they'll be all right…?" Pete became worried. Roy nodded.

"Oh, It's not that. I was just thinking. Five more minutes. If it had taken five more minutes to get here, or... if we had left five minutes later…or if they had waited another five minutes to leave the bank…" The gravity of Roy's statement weighed on the men. They knew their partners and best friends might not be alive if Roy's statement had played out.

"But they didn't Roy. They're safe. Jim and John are safe. They are going to be all right, in time." Both men pondered the events of the day. They sat in each others company, feeling the kinship they shared, waiting to go with their brothers to the hospital.

"You did a good Job, Roy. Using the cab was a good idea. You kept your cool. Having you drive helped in getting them some medical attention right away." Pete's attempt to sound professional faltered when his voiced cracked. He cleared his throat, but the emotions stayed on the surface.

"Come on, Pete. You know as well as I do that if I hadn't thought of using the cab, you would have thought of another way to save our partners. You were in the trunk giving our location the whole time, after all! They're more than just partners to us. They're a part of us…Jim and Johnny. The bond…It's…They're…"

"They're our brothers…" Pete whispered. Roy nodded. Pete knew. Roy didn't have to explain it to him. He and Jim had what Roy and Johnny had. Not just in the field, or while they were 'on the job.' It was constant. Unspoken. Unwavering. They both nodded silently in understanding. They knew that the other would lay down their life for the other, without question, without having to ask – both on the job, and off. That's what a brother does.

Pete knew their moods were in desperate need of changing.

"So, you worried about what your captain's going to say about you driving the cab?" Roy broke out in a smile.

"Not half as worried as I am at what my wife's going to say!" Pete found his own smile.

"Another great reason to stay a bachelor!" Both men began to laugh.

Two ambulance gurneys filed past the men, and Pete rose to his feet first. Extending his hand, he pulled the tired paramedic to his feet. Exchanging a smile, they each climbed into the ambulances that held their partners, best friends and brothers.

The doors slammed on the ambulances, and two pats were given, and they were on their way.

This day had forever changed them, but strengthened them as brothers - forever.


End file.
